


Give and Receive

by s0mmerspr0ssen



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Begging, Discipline, Dom!Steve, Dom/sub, Dominance, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sub!Tony, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0mmerspr0ssen/pseuds/s0mmerspr0ssen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As always, he’s amazed and awed that of all people in the world, Tony has put his trust in Steve, lets Steve see a side of him that is soft and vulnerable. A side that craves reassurance, a side that is able, even willing to submit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give and Receive

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Marvel/Avengers fic, so if you see any glaringly obvious mistakes/flaws (though this focuses on the D/s and porn, haha), please keep in mind I am just your average movie(s) verse fangirl. ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It’s not like Tony Stark snapping at Nick Fury is big news. Really, _not_ seeing the two of them shouting at each other would be more unusual.  
  
Steve gets that, so usually, Steve would not interfere.  
  
He is not one to use the power he has lightly. He’s learned the possible repercussions of that, a harsh lesson ever since he turned from a sickly, thin boy into Captain America.  
  
But today, Tony pushes it just a bit too far. He’s not only being snarky, but outright disobedient and rude and absolutely unbearably arrogant to somebody who is, essentially, his commander, and Steve has to take a deep breath in order to calm himself.  
  
It wouldn’t do to lose control, to get too explicit in front of the entire team. Steve knows that Tony values his privacy and that he fears nothing more than losing anyone's and especially the other Avengers’ respect, however grudging it might be on occasions.  
  
But Steve also has a responsibility for Tony, even more so than other people might have for their partners in their relationships. Tony relies on Steve making choices or decisions for him if needed, even when Tony himself at first doesn’t realize that it is necessary.  
  
So when he sees Tony open his mouth for yet another round of disrespectful venom aimed at Director Fury, Steve braces himself and does interfere.  
  
“Tony,” is all he says.  
  
He’s not shouting, not at all. Rather, his voice is quiet, but with an edge Tony should be very familiar with by now.  
  
It’s not his soldier voice, because Steve is too keen on being professional as to mix work up with this. It wouldn’t do for them to blur the lines and ending up endangering somebody during a mission due to miscommunication. But the tone - it’s close, and similarly strict. Steve might still be a bit surprised that it works, but he does realize that using this voice will manage to get even a Tony Stark’s complete attention.  
  
Steve is proven right when, instead of spewing another set of condescending words, Tony snaps his mouth shut and promptly turns his head towards Steve.  
  
His whole stance is defiant, but Steve knows Tony well enough by now to see the signs that Tony is, in fact, very carefully waiting for something; he's expecting more. There's a wariness in his eyes, for example. There’s the way his fingers curl and uncurl just briefly against the table. An a nearly imperceptible shudder rippling through his frame.  
  
To anyone else, it probably looks like sheer annoyance or anger. But Steve knows better.  
  
“What is it, Cap?" Tony eventually breaks the silence, his voice mocking. "Want to share your mighty opinion on this? Spit it out, and we can ignore it and move right on.”  
  
Steve has to stifle an urge to stand up and take Tony apart right there and then, in front of everyone, until he breaks down and remains open and bare and vulnerable.  
  
But Steve isn’t like that, and Tony would never forgive him. Frankly, Steve wouldn’t forgive himself either.  
  
Everyone is watching the two of them very carefully now, and most of the other Avengers are nothing if not smart, some of them even creepily observant. They would catch on at once. (Sometimes Steve has the feeling Clint and Natasha might already have.)  
  
So Steve does not act on the urge. Instead, he takes in the way Tony is leaning heavily on the table, muscles tense and strained, then stares right into Tony’s eyes.  
  
“Tony,” he repeats in that very special tone of voice. “Stop.”  
  
Tony, in turn, takes an audible breath through his nose, sends another angry glare towards Fury - and sits back down.  
  
For the rest of the meeting, quite possibly to everyone but Steve’s surprise, Tony Stark doesn’t utter a single word and only nods his approval if strictly necessary.  
  
Luckily, nobody is stupid enough to provoke him again by commenting on it.  
  
The second the briefing is over, Steve gets up and turns to walk right to Tony’s side, settling a firm hand on his shoulder. Tony feels tense under his fingers, like a tightly drawn string rope ready to snap, and it only seems to worsen when Steve seeks out Tony's eyes and sends him a reproachful look.  
  
“I think we need to talk, don’t you agree?” Steve says quietly but firmly.  
  
Tony’s nod is nothing more than a jerk of his head.  
  
“Sure,” he manages, and all Steve hears is Tony desperately clinging to the last bit of restraint he has left.  
  
They need to leave now, find some privacy to deal with this. Lucky for them, all the Avengers still have accommodation at SHIELD headquarters, so instead of having to deal with a tense flight back home or risking exposure by doing it somewhere else, Steve does his best not to look too suspicious as he ushers Tony out of the conference room and towards his own quarters.  
  
The room is not very large, but the door is thick and has a lock and that is all that counts right now.  
  
Tony doesn’t protest as Steve guides him into the room, doesn’t show any kind of reaction beyond being tense and a hell lot more quiet than he usually is.  
  
“Sit,” Steve says after locking the door behind them, and Tony does.  
  
At least, he’s not being purposefully disobedient. They’ve had those kinds of days before, with Tony rebelling at each and every turn.  
  
Steve had not liked those days at all. But then, neither had Tony, so Steve figured he hadn’t suffered alone through Tony’s stubbornness.  
  
Tony doesn’t look very stubborn now. Not really, not like he would defy Steve just to make a point or push boundaries or just to make sure Steve will stick by him even if he’s being an utter asshole for no apparent reason.  
  
Instead, Tony looks miserable. Tense and defiant, yes, but also miserable.  
  
Seeing the man he loves like this aches Steve to no end, and some part of him wants to embrace him, wants to whisper sweet nothings until Tony is pliant in his arms and everything is all right.  
  
But they don't work that way. It might have been like this had Steve not been frozen for decades and been with Peggy, or if the nature of Tony's and his relationship were more conventional. But Steve cannot give into that instinct.  
  
Instead, Steve settles into a firm stance in front of the bed, arms crossed and face serious.  
  
"Tell me what you did wrong," he demands, voice cool.  
  
Tony sends him a brief glance before settling his gaze somewhere on the wall behind Steve.  
  
Steve narrows his eyes.  
  
"You didn't seem so out of words earlier," Steve continues, more sharply now. "Let me repeat: what did you do wrong?"  
  
Tony's eventual reply oozes with snark.  
  
"I guess I mouthed off."  
  
“You _guess_ correctly,” Steve replies, resisting to take the bait. “I thought we had been over this, but apparently, I have been wrong to assume you’d at least be able to make an effort.”  
  
“I would, if Fury would also make an effort to use just half of his brain,” Tony retorts and Steve sees that talking will get them nowhere.  
  
He uncrosses his arms and braces himself for what is to come.  
  
“I’d say I am disappointed in you,” he states, “I’d even say I am surprised, but that means I would have to have expected better from you in the first place.”  
  
And _that_ gets through. Tony flinches, his mouth going tight, and Steve can practically hear him think this over, can nearly feel the hurt the words have caused himself.  
  
Steve’s sorry in a way, of course he is, but what they do has a lot to do with sacrifices. If he needs to be harsh with Tony so they can resolve this, then so be it. Even if Steve would dearly love to be tender and loving and affectionate instead.  
  
“You know, sometimes I wonder why I even bother,” Steve continues, and now he’s just being plain cruel on purpose. “I know you most likely won’t change. At the beginning, I still thought you could, but now I am not even sure you have the ability.”  
  
Tony is no longer staring at the wall. His eyes are glued to Steve’s face and he is clearly listening now.  
  
“Maybe, I am wasting my time on you. Maybe, even I can’t save you from yourself. God knows that I tried.”  
  
“No,” Tony suddenly gasps and it’s clear it wasn’t consciously done.  
  
But it’s no matter. Steve has been aiming for any kind of reaction and this is just _perfect_. He’s chosen the right path, has shaken Tony out of his rigid stupor. It can only improve from here.  
  
“No?” Steve asks, raising his eyebrows. He’s confident his expression shows none of his actual thoughts. “No, I haven’t tried? Is that what you are saying?”  
  
And now, Tony is clearly upset. Honestly worried. Maybe even scared.  
  
“No,” Tony says, voice rough. “You’ve tried, I know. I _know_ that...”  
  
He trails off, but Steve knows what he is aiming for.  
  
“Are you saying my attempts have not been futile? Do you feel like you’ve improved?”  
  
Tony swallows heavily.  
  
“I... I...”  
  
To Steve, it’s still completely mind-boggling that he can reduce Tony Stark to stuttering, to losing his playboy eloquence. But it’s rewarding. It means he’s getting through and that is what counts.  
  
Tony takes a shuttering breath.  
  
“I don’t know,” he finally says and that admission seems to have cost him a lot. “I don’t know. But don’t stop trying. _Please_ don’t. I know I can do better.”  
  
“Really?” Steve asks, voice laced with doubt. “I don’t believe you, Tony. You’ve had so many chances, and yet...”  
  
“I’m _sorry_ ”, Tony interrupts him, voice fervent. Steve doesn’t think anybody has ever heard Tony Stark apologize like this. “I’m sorry, please don’t give up. I... let me try. Please. Tell me to do something and I’m going to be good. I _can_ be good. I know it.”  
  
Steve refrains from showing his pride. On the outside, he looks unimpressed, unchanged. In reality, he’s amazed.  
  
As always, he’s amazed and awed that of all people in the world, Tony has put his trust in Steve, lets Steve see a side of him that is soft and vulnerable. A side that craves reassurance, a side that is able, even willing to submit.  
  
When it comes down to it, all Tony Stark needs is guidance, somebody who cares about him. Not about his intellect or many talents or looks, but about him as a whole, faults and insecurities included.  
  
Steve like to think that he can provide this.  
  
“Prove it, then,” he orders. “Show me you can do as you’re told. Get up.”  
  
Tony obeys at once and Steve immediately sees the change. Tony is still tense, but he’s no longer rigid and miserable. Instead, he now is focused, all of his attention on Steve.  
  
Steve knows Tony will be good. Tony excells at everything he sets his mind to.  
  
“Strip,” Steve says.  
  
Tony’s fingers move at once, deftly undoing the cuffs of his dress shirt, then the buttons at the front.  
  
Steve watches him carefully, but Tony is nothing if not diligent with his work. He folds his shirt neatly, as well as the t-shirt underneath wich has revealed the eery beauty that is his arc reactor.  
  
He bows to remove his shoes, then moves on to his pants with almost no hesitation, pulling them down with little effort.  
  
His underwear is last and eventually, Steve has a naked Tony standing in front of him, clothes piled neatly on the far side of the bed, almost to military standard.  
  
It’s amazing to see what Tony is willing to do, given the right incentive.  
  
Steve does not miss the fact that Tony is already slightly aroused. His cock, while not fully hard, is flushed and has lenghtened a fair bit.  
  
Luckily, the times of Steve having doubts about the rightness of two men having sex have been over for a while. Pursuing this relationship, this _kind_ of relationship, will lower any inhibitions remarkably quickly, he has found.  
  
“You say you can do better,” Steve repeats. “You say you can listen to what somebody tells you. What I tell you. You say you can follow my lead. Is that right?”  
  
“Yes,” Tony says.  
  
Steve eyes him for a full minute, and Tony clearly does his best not to fidget.  
  
“Good,” Steven eventually continues. “Listen carefully because I will not repeat myself. I want you on your knees, arms crossed behind your back. I want you looking up at me. I want you asking for my cock. I want you using that smart mouth of yours to convince me that you deserve my cock. And only if I am one hundred percent confident that you deserve it, you will suck it. You will not use your hands. You will not touch me and you will not touch yourself. You will not come. This is about you showing me that you can follow my lead, that you can obey orders. This is _not_ about you or your pleasure, but mine.”  
  
He pauses for effect.  
  
“Is that clear?”  
  
Tony’s eyes have gone wide, but he replies: “Yes. Perfectly.”  
  
Steve allows himself a tiny smile.  
  
“Good. Get started.”  
  
Tony drops to his knees.  
  
He crosses his arms neatly behind his back, interlacing his hands and fingers to lock them into place, and adjusts his legs for a firmer stand. Steve has a perfect view at Tony’s cock, but right now, he focuses on Tony’s face.  
  
People would be surprised how subdued Tony can look. How submissive. How eager to please. Steve doubts there have been a lot of people to have seen this side of him.  
  
“Please,” Tony says and his voice is simply _perfect_. He doesn’t sound demanding, he doesn’t sound arrogant, not even slightly.  
  
Instead, it sounds timid. Timid and so damn eager and Steve feels himself respond, feels himself grow hard.  
  
How can he not react? Tony like this - pliant, subdued, eyes so full of trust, seeking for reassurance - Steve could never resist.  
  
“Please, let me suck you,” Tony says, and his voice had adapted a pleading pitch.  
  
“Please. I’ll be so good. I’ll use my tongue, I am very good with it. I have a clever tongue, I’ve been told before. I’d make it feel so good. I can swallow your cock, I’ll swallow it whole. You can make me gag, I don’t care. I want you to. I want you to feel like you can use me. You can. You can fuck my mouth until you come. I want it. Please. I promise I’ll be good, you’ll enjoy it. Please.”  
  
 _I shouldn’t get off on this,_ a part of Steve thinks as Tony keeps talking, describing favor after favor, telling Steve just how good he can be. A much larger part focuses on how absolutely arousing it is to hear Tony sound so unlike him, so completely devoted.  
  
It’s heady.  
  
It’s humbling.  
  
Steve unbuttons his pants and unzips his fly.  
  
“Let’s see what you can do,” he says, voice rough with arousal, and Tony nearly topples over in his eagerness to get closer.  
  
Steve, of course, doesn’t make it too easy for him. Tony needs a minute to coax out Steve’s hardness, hands still firmly on his back, and Steve doesn’t do a thing to help him along.  
  
Finally, though, Tony succeeds in slipping Steve’s hardening cock free.  
  
Steve expects him to go for it right away, but Tony doesn’t. Instead, he sends another, almost reverent gaze upwards.  
  
The look is so damn thankful Steve has half a mind to stop the session and get them both off while kissing Tony as sweetly as he could possibly manage.  
  
But that would be selfish, entirely self-serving. Because tenderness is not what Tony needs on days like this. Not at all.  
  
So instead, Steve curls a firm hand around the back of Tony’s head and gives him but a second to position himself properly before pulling him forward sharply.  
  
The first time Steve had made Tony gag, he apologized profusely and been very careful with him for the rest of the encounter. Tony had later reassured him that it had been all right, but Steve had had the feeling that not only had it been tolerated but actually desired.  
  
Now he knows what Tony wants, needs. Hand curled firmly into Tony’s hair, he doesn’t give him much time or leverage to adjust. Instead, he forces him down on his flushed cock until Tony’s lips brush against coarse blonde hair.  
  
Of course, it feels amazing, but even more rewarding is Tony trying to make it work even as he gags, the way he’s trying to use his tongue in ways to let Steve have more friction.  
  
There’s nothing egocentric, nothing arrogant or bossy in the way Tony sucks Steve off. Tony is eager for Steve to enjoy himself, and it’s all that counts.  
  
When Steve finally allows him to slip off a bit, Tony’s eyes are suspiciously wet. Steve knows that’s a good thing.  
  
“Very good,” he allows and, hearing the encouragement, Tony moves back forward on his own.  
  
Tony excells at this, of course he does. Steve ceases to lead him, his hand merely a firm weight on the back of Tony’s head as the other swallows and licks eagerly, by now perfectly aware what brings Steve the most enjoyment.  
  
Tony knows how to tease the glans, how to shape his lips for optimal pressure, where to nuzzle Steve’s balls and soft skin to make it feel _perfect_.  
  
Steve’s orgasm is sudden and hard, but Tony is not taken off-guard. Instead, he swallows every last drop of semen like it’s a precious gift, licking his lips afterwards as if to prove his point.  
  
Steve breathes lightly, super-soldier enhancement preventing him from being even remotely out of breath, but that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate the heady rush of endorphins rushing through his body or the fierce sense of pride he feels for Tony and his willingness to submit, obey, to simply let go for once.  
  
On the floor, Tony is still on his knees, arms on his back. But he doesn’t look tense, or even especially eager anymore. Instead, he seems entirely relaxed.  
  
He seeks out Steve’s eyes and when Steve smiles down at him, Tony sighs and unlocks his fingers.  
  
Tony is still hard, but Steve has set this up not to be reciprocal, and he doesn’t think Tony needs that kind of release right now anyway. Emotionally, he’s completely satisfied, and his back and shoulders are pliant enough.  
  
Steve makes himself presentable, then crouches and helps Tony up and onto the bed. They curl into each other, Tony hiding his face in Steve’s clothed shoulder, breathing slowly.  
  
Steve runs his fingers through Tony’s hair.  
  
“Feeling better?” he finally murmurs when he’s sure Tony is ready for a talk. Tony nods.  
  
“Much,” he says, then adds, “Thanks. Thank you.”  
  
“It’s what I am here for, right?”  
  
Tony snorts, then turns his head so he can look at Steve. He seems a bit worried and Steve wonders if the session wasn’t as much a success as he thought it had been.  
  
“Can I just ask,” Tony eventually says. “What you said... do you really believe that?”  
  
Steve blinks at him, confused.  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“That I can’t improve,” Tony elaborates and Steve cannot restrain himself this time, doesn’t have to now that the discipline part is over; he places a tender, affectionate kiss on Tony’s brow.  
  
“I think you’re a right piece of work,” Steve tells him. “But I don’t think you’re hopeless, no.”  
  
Tony smiles, softly at first, then wider until he’s back to the cheeky grin he usually flashes at the world at large.  
  
“Good,” he says, satisfied with himself.  
  
Steve chuckles.  
  
They should probably leave soon. It wouldn’t do to have somebody realize they haven’t and go look for them. They already have one Avenger among their team who SHIELD personnel has seen naked. They don’t need to add another.  
  
As for now, though, they simply lie together, Steve’s hands brushing over Tony’s bare back, enjoying the fact that they fit so well. Work so well.  
  
He has no illusions that this will have been the last of it, that Tony will remember this as a permanent lesson, but he will be more relaxed. More quiet. At least for a while.  
  
Their relationship might be unusual, Steve thinks, listening to Tony’s even breathing, but it isn’t any less perfect.


End file.
